To deserve you
by blackonyx
Summary: Voldemort does not threat the Wizarding World anymore and things have returned to being almost normal.Does it mean all suffering has vanished?


Chapter 01 - Hermione

We are all sitting around the kitchen table in the Burrow; we always eat here on Sundays, it's like a family gathering. I'll soon be a true member of the Weasley family, since I am engaged to Ron, and as for Harry… he has always been considered a member; it's the only family he has ever known. Usually there's just the two of us, Ron, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Sometimes, the twins or Percy step over, if they manage to free themselves from their activities. Bill and Charlie are mostly absent; they only visit during holidays.

"Hermione, dear, are you having problems at work?" Mrs. Weasley asks me with concern. "You don't look okay."

I've been working in the Department of Mysteries since last year. Apparently, the Ministry believes they need a sharp mind like mine to help them with some cases. Of course, the fact that I received more N.E.W.T's than anyone else in the last one hundred years in the history of Hogwarts must have had something to do with it. I like my job, but it's often frustrating and at times, I have come to see terrible things that won't let me sleep at night. Thankfully, Ron and Harry are always there for me, even though they are not permitted to know details about what I'm working on. Who am I to defy Ministry Rules? Well… except for some 'special' occasions where I need help from my best friends, that is.

"Now, Molly," says Mr. Weasley, "you know Hermione is not allowed to talk about her work…"

"It's all right, she hasn't asked anything I can't answer," I say and turn to Mrs Weasley, who seems to have regretted her question all of the sudden. "Don't worry, everything is fine at work, it's just that they're giving me quite a hard time these days. I suppose I look tired."

"You look wonderful as always, Hermione. Don't listen to my mother," Ron says silently close to my ear, grinning.

Harry laughs, having heard the comment. "It's not like your opinion counts here, Ron. You _always_ think Hermione looks wonderful."

"Shut up!" Ron exclaims, not too loud, blushing a bit.

Mrs. Weasley obviously has heard him, for she narrows her eyebrows. "Ronald!"

Yes, everything is _normal_. Everything is so comfortably normal on Sundays. There is quality beyond words in everything surrounding me, from the old rocking chair next to the hearth, to Mrs. Weasley's needlework laying on the small round table beside it. There is this familiar warmth that penetrates my body every time I find myself in this house and makes me feel I belong to a family…. I can honestly say I don't think a lot about my parents' deaths anymore, and I have the Weasley family and their affection to thank for it.

Ginny is also the same as usual, more beautiful than ever, but with the same sad and longing expression in her eyes. I sometimes wonder if I am the only person who notices this.

She is looking at him….

Even though time and suffering have changed everyone, certain things remain the same. It has become a habit to her; I don't think she even realises the way she stares at him from time to time.

She has loved him for more than nine years and never got anything in return. She might have had other relationships, but _he_ is always there, in her most private moments, in her inner thoughts, inside her heart. One who knows her well can see that nothing has really changed for her. It's as though she's standing waiting in a line, subconsciously expecting the right time that will eventually come, no matter what. I don't think there is another way for her – a part of her will always be waiting for him.

I believe she would do anything for him, should he ask her. I truly admire her kind of love – unconditional, unlimited, eternal. Her heart has broken more than enough times; she has seen him with other women, she has sat and watched as he slipped further and further away from her. Yet, she has always been there for him, trying to cheer him up, listening to him, easing his pain. Being his friend.

Could _I_ ever do that? Could I love this way? Could I ever love from a distance, without being able to claim a kiss, a hug, a caress? I don't think I could…

The fortunate thing with me is that I never had any serious doubts. He was crazy about me and it was perfectly obvious. I did have my share of insecurities; there were times I thought maybe I was a bit too arrogant to be so sure about his feelings towards me; there always was the _slight_ chance I'd be proven wrong in the end. I wasn't anything special anyway…

However, a woman should listen to what her heart says, and mine was screaming that I _was _special. I was special to his eyes, as he was special to mine. My instincts told me that he loved me, long before he actually admitted it. It took him some time, but he did it. And I was the happiest woman on earth; I wanted to travel all over the world flying on a broomstick with him – and mind you, I _hate_ flying on a broomstick.

As soon as lunch is over, we engage ourselves in our usual Sunday routine. I offer to help with the dishes, even though I know that Mrs. Weasley will politely decline, as she always does. Harry and Ron start a game of chess in the living room and Mr. Weasley reads _the Daily Prophet_.

Ginny and I usually go upstairs to her room to have our 'girl talk'. This particular Sunday though, Ginny seems as if she wants to get something important out of her chest, because she immediately locks the door to her room, throws herself onto her bed and buries her face in a pillow.

"I can't stand this anymore, Hermione!" she cries in frustration, liberating her face from the pillow, but only just enough to speak the words.

"What is it, Ginny? What's wrong?" I sit next to her by the bed.

She turns her head to face me, and I can see tears slipping from her eyes. "What d'you think is wrong?" she says a bit sarcastically, "It's what's _always_ wrong!"

I understand. "What has happened this time?"

"He - he wanted to - to ask me something," she manages to say between sobs. "Oh, Hermione… he wanted to ask me what I think of Amy Walters, that - that _Ravenclaw_ in my year, remember?"

"Oh, Ginny… not _again_." I sigh.

As Ginny lies down on her bed, clutching the pillow and sobbing uncontrollably, I think of the number of times this has happened in the past. In the two years that we have graduated from Hogwarts and Ginny's one, Harry has come to consider Ginny as one of the persons he can confide in. Unfortunately, though I've never understood why exactly, he always picks Ginny when it comes to his love affairs, not realising the pain that causes her. I can only suspect he feels comfortable talking about things like that with Ginny, since she is out-going, open-minded and experienced in the matter of relationships – at least that's what he _thinks_.

What Harry doesn't know is that Ginny has never had any success with the few boyfriends she's had. He doesn't know that Ginny couldn't feel anything serious about someone else, because he was always dominating her heart and mind. He doesn't know every time she kissed someone else, she wished it were him she was kissing. He doesn't know that each one of her boyfriends understood sooner or later that they would always come second to a person they just could not defeat. Who would want to compete with famous Harry Potter?

And the reason he doesn't know, is that Ginny seems to hide her feelings pretty well from him -including everyone else, except for me. During her fifth year, she decided that if she couldn't have Harry love her, she would have to settle with being a good friend to him.

I have told her so many times that maybe this is the worst thing to do, but she stubbornly insists that if she made her feelings for Harry obvious, he would shut her out of his life, and that, she couldn't bear. She just doesn't understand that she hasn't given Harry the chance to look at her differently…

She looks calmer now, and I attempt to talk to her once more. "Why do you do this to yourself, Ginny?"

She shots her head up. "Don't worry, Hermione. It'll pass. It always does," she says, as if trying to convince herself.

"You know that's not true, Ginny; don't fool yourself. Why don't you—"

"What?" she interrupts me impatiently, "Tell him I'm tired of helping him with his love problems after so many years? He'll surely ask me _why_… and then what will I say to him? That it breaks my heart every time? That I only want him for myself and secretly hate all of his girlfriends? _What_?" She shakes her head in desperation. "We've been over this so many times, Hermione. Telling him I love him would mean I'd lose him. I couldn't stand to live without him being part of my life. I'd rather die instead." Her voise cracks.

"But Ginny… you don't know that for sure. Maybe he _will_ return your feelings, why don't you just give him the chance?" I plead, although I know my words won't mean anything to her. I have decided that I will never be able to persuade stubborn women like Ginny to do something when they don't want to, even if it'd be good for them. I can't find the right words, I can't be supportive, I can't offer a lot of help… It seems I've come into this world to associate with men only… Poor Ginny though is too embarrased to talk about Harry to anyone else, so she's stuck with me in this one.

"Chances are he won't," she mumbles, "I can't take that risk, I'm too scared of losing him."

"At least let me talk to him," I suggest, not knowing what else to say. I'm out of other suggestions.

"Don't even think about it!" She looks at me appalled. I've done it again… _how_ do I manage to upset her every time instead of comforting her, I wonder… "It'd be even worse!" she continues, still looking at me as if I've said something absurd, "He'll feel bad for disappointing you. I can't do this to him, can't you see?"

No, I _can't_ see. But then again, I'm pretty daft in these matters… Oh God, thank you, _thank you_ so much for Trevor's decision to wander around Hogwarts train nine years ago! I dare not imagine what would have become of me if I hadn't met Ron; I'd probably be totally hopeless in love. Just one more reason for me to be eternally grateful to him; he fell in love with me, thus saved me from a lifetime of loneliness.

Well, Ginny obviously doesn't want to continue this conversation; the tears come back and she hides her face.

There's nothing else I can do for her. I just wish her sense will one day be the winner of the battle with her fears. In the meantime, Ginny remains the happy and pleasant girl that everyone knows, hiding her miserable side too well for her own good. At least she opens up to me and somehow gets it out of her system, or I'd be seriously afraid she might do anything crazy.

That's okay Ginny, cry all you want, cry until your pain becomes a distant memory, at least for the next few hours. Cry until you're tired of it.

I unlock the door and quietly push it behind me. I think I hear her whisper, "I wish he'd love me. I wish I'd deserve him."

No need to ask what the outcome of the chess game was. Harry has a sour expression on his face, and Ron grins wildly. One day maybe he'll realise that Harry doesn't actually enjoy playing a game in which his loss is inevitable. Maybe he'll realise he only plays for him.

"Hermione, why have you come down? Is anything wrong with Ginny?" says Ron, looking worried. He must have noticed that Ginny was not her usual talkative self during lunch.

Harry's expression abruptly changes, as if he's envisioning Ginny in dangerous situations.

"Oh, calm down boys," I laugh, "Oh, I can't _believe_ the look on your faces! Honestly, why would you think there's something wrong? Ginny is just tired, she didn't sleep well last night."

I might have made things worse…

"Why didn't she sleep well? What's wrong with her? Is she having any problems? Tell me Hermione, I—"

"Oh, _please_ Ron," I say, preparing myself for words I've lost count how many times I've told Ron, "Ginny is not a baby anymore, she doesn't need you to solve her problems." There it goes, I said it again. Maybe it'll take more than one million times for Ron to understand –or maybe I'm too possitive that he'll ever understand. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with her, she's just tired."

"Perhaps she's had a spat with her boyfriend," suggests Harry.

Oh yes, Harry, that's exactly _it_!

I suddenly remember something annoying…

"Harry, I think I'm going back home, I left my room in a total mess!" I say, embarrassed for admitting this. Yes, I, Hermione Granger, can leave something in the middle when circumstances demand it.

He looks at me surprised. "You left your room in a mess? What's wrong?" Harry is used to my perfectly neat bedroom.

"Um… I had some reading to do, and besides… _someone_ preoccupied me last night," I grin foolishly looking at Ron, too happy for pushing the subject elsewhere, "and I woke up very late for any housework."

Harry seems to understand what I'm saying and shifts uncomfortably. Oh my poor thing, must be hard for him… he sleeps right next to me after all! At least we are discreet enough to use Silencing Charms…

"_Hermione_!" Aw… Ron looks so cute when he's all red. "Let's go, I'll come with you two," he growls.

We all say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and then Apparate to Harry's and my apartment, soon after I take a good look around the house, trying to memorise the place. Yes, one day I'll have a place like that, full of babies and—

Maybe it's too soon to think about that…

After graduating from Hogwarts, Harry and I found ourselves in a most uncomfortable situation. I didn't want to go back to my parents' house, because of the bad memories. Also because it was so far away from the Wizarding World and I didn't want to live as a Muggle. It'd be too hard for me to hide my magical abilities all the time, this kind of living would only make me suffer.

Harry was not threatened by Voldemort anymore, so he didn't need to go back to the Dursleys. He didn't want to live in Grimmauld Place either – the place was just too large and too dark for Harry's taste. Certainly, the fact that Mrs. Black's portrait would deafen him with the constant shouting was quite a convincing argument of his, but I think the real reason was that Harry didn't want to live in a House where Dark Wizards once lived, even if his Godfather was a part of it once. He had had enough of Dark Wizards…

We were two best friends who needed a new place to live… and it was actually Ron who provided us with a solution, suggesting we found an apartment in Diagon Alley and stayed there together. That way he'd be able to visit both of us all the time, we wouldn't would feel lonely and we'd also protect each other. I have to admit, sometimes Ron has the most brilliant ideas; this one was in front of our eyes and we never gave it a thought until he mentioned it. So… Harry and I living together… why not? We felt comfortable with each other, we trusted each other, we respected each other… Yes, we all decided that Harry and I could easily be good roommates.

And we are. Each one of us has their own bedroom and bathroom, while we share the living room and kitchen. Our apartment is cosy, warm and beautiful, maybe because we had such a great time to put everything into place. Ron and the twins helped with carrying and putting the furniture where it belonged and Ginny gave valuable advice on decoration, since she has quite the unique taste.

I love our place. I love Harry and the time we spend together. I love it that we share a Muggle background and watch TV together. I love that we have a lot of Muggle devices in the house and we often listen to Muggle music. I love that we eat pizza and spaghetti regularly and sometimes talk until early hours. I couldn't have asked for a better roommate than Harry.

When Ron comes, it reminds me of the way we were in Hogwarts. In a way, it's even better now, because there's no danger hanging over our heads. We just have fun now, the three of us, and sometimes with Ginny, too. We don't want her to feel excluded, so we invite her very often; she's fun to be around anyway. She and Ron make all the jokes and fool around, and even though we've been seeing them together for years, Harry and I are still amazed at how those two are so much alike. They get closer as the years pass by.

After three pops – I've always found this sound very funny – we all find ourselves home. I immediately think of my messy room and head towards it, secretly hoping that Ron will follow after me.

"I'll – I'll go help Hermione clean up her room," says Ron, hardly convincing.

Harry opens his mouth to say something, probably sarcastic, but Ron cuts him off nervously, "Um – sorry mate, I s'pose I'll see you tomorrow at training."

Harry and Ron are in their second year of Auror training; next year is going to be their last one, and then they'll be Aurors officially. Until then, they have to work pretty hard to do well in their training lessons, for their performances are graded every six months in some sort of an overall exam. Sometimes they both return so tired from training that the only thing they want to do is sink themselves in a bed and sleep.

The fact that Ron is watching my room in its current state is quite embarrassing for me. "Ron, don't – don't think I often leave it like that, you've seen how nice it looks on other occasions—_what_?" I snap.

What's more embarrassing is the fact that he has thrown his head back laughing, so very Ginny-like. "What do you think is so funny?" I insist.

"You've got to be joking me, Hermione," he says between roars of laughter, "You consider _this _a mess? You're upset about _this_?"

I take a good look around. There are clothes on my bed, books out of their selves _and _one could easily tell I haven't cleaned up the place since yesterday morning.

"_This_ is more than neat for my standards, Hermione!" says Ron, still laughing.

I don't think it's so funny; he might be terrible at cleaning his own room, but that doesn't mean he has to make fun of me for wanting mine to be in order. I sit on my bed, pouting; a little voice deep down inside insists I only do this because I _know _it affects him and he'll be begging for forgiveness in a matter of seconds.

"Oh, come on Hermione, don't tell me you're angry…" He groans and sits beside me on the bed, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says quietly and turns my head to face him. I'm trying hard not smile at him; I wouldn't want to make things easier for him…

"You laughed at me," I say, escaping a plaintive sigh.

"I won't do it again, I swear," he says, bringing his face close to mine.

"You liar," I whimper, before he puts his index finger on my lips to hush me. Oh, who cares about stupid pride anyway…

I know what's coming next and I yearn it with all my heart. Ron kisses me and doesn't fail to make me feel thousands of little explosions inside, as he always does. His lips are soft and warm and more flavoursome than anything else in the world and I feel like a bird with wet wings that can't fly away, like a fly that has been captured in a spider's net . He has me captured and I don't want to escape my prison, not in a million years. It hurts when he removes his mouth from my own, but he takes the pain away when he kisses my neck. My breathing comes out with difficulty, I can clearly hear my heartbeats, my pulse has gone crazy…

The immensity of my feelings sometimes scares me; am I supposed to feel like that? It's as if I'm going to explode in any minute. I want us to be relieved of our clothes, I want to feel his bare chest touching mine, I want to hear him moan in ecstasy as I leave trails of kisses down his stomach. I want him to devour me and lose himself in me. I want to bite his neck and leave my mark of love there for everyone to see. For everyone to understand the passion that I feel for this man, who is mine and only mine.

His hand reaches for his wand and he mutters a Silencing Spell. All coherent thought abandons me. There's no Hermione anymore; the nagging know-it-all becomes Ron's love slave and let me tell you, there's nothing else she enjoys more.

I wake up in the middle of the night and bitterly discover that Ron isn't lying beside me. He must have left after I fell asleep – or rather, collapsed. There's no light in the room and I figure it's still very dark outside.

On my way to have some water, I notice light coming out of Harry's room. What is he doing not sleeping at this hour? A part of me wants to knock at his door, but the thought that I haven't showered yet prevents me. I must surely smell of sex, and I wouldn't want Harry to catch on.

I'd like to ask him about this Ravenclaw girl that Ginny mentioned, but Harry would probably find this very weird, not to mention he'd ask how I found out. We rarely talk about romance – this is Ginny's department. I don't know how we've reached this silent agreement, but I think it is for the best. Love advice is not my thing at all… Considering I don't have any other girlfriends my age except Ginny, I really don't know how other women are supposed to react… I only know the way _I _react, and that, to Ron. Harry probably understands that the whole thing makes me uncomfortable, so he doesn't ask me questions about other women or how he should treat them. He just asks Ginny….

I think I won't be able to fall asleep again, my mind is overflowed with thoughts, images and sounds and I can't control all of that. When that happens, I just have to occupy it with something else. Time to clean up that room of mine…

Working at the Department of Mysteries is no easy task. First of all, the environment is creepy and far from pleasant, although I am grateful that my office is in a room that actually _has_ a window, unlike the other two of the Department. Since Augustus Rookwood still occupies a cell in Azkaban and Bode died years ago, new blood has made its appearance. Except for me, there is also another woman who has been here just a little longer than I have. I'm glad to work closely with her; Mrs. Natasha Willow is a cunning 45-year-old lady that strongly reminds me of Mad-Eye-Moody. Her hearing is very sharp and I could swear she has the sense of smell of a hound. She trusts her instincts more than anything, and I'd be surprised to see the day that she regretted this.

We are a great working couple, the two of us. She has her senses and I have my brains; unbeatable duo, really. We've been working together quite often for the past one year and a half, and I have to admit we get along famously. Maybe someday, our brilliances might even discover who the secret Head behind the Department of Mysteries is.

The third party of the Department is an irritating, bald and soiled man of sixty years, to whom we pay attention only in life or death circumstances. We're just glad he lets us do the whole work and doesn't interfere. Bit of unfair surely, the fact that he is paid the same with us, but at least we don't have to endure him.

The past week, we've been working on some unidentifiable yet spell. No one has been able to name the spell that originated the deaths of nine people last year, so it has become a matter of our Department. Yes, each and every little thing that the other Departments can't find an answer to, comes straight in here. Sometimes, the most silliest of things are sent here; I have more than one occasion doubted the Ministry's employees and their intelligence.

Anyway, this last issue has been taking the best of me, since I'm all day buried inside a book, trying to find clues about this spell that killed nine people so far. It's at hours such as these when I long for the day that the answer to what's bugging me will appear in front of my eyes, on the _first_ page of the_ first_ book I'll choose to dig up from a shelf. I _know_ I'll find the answer in the end, I always do; does it _have_ to be in the four hundredth and seventh book I'll get into my hands?

But I shouldn't complain… poor Natasha has to do her research outdoors. I can't imagine me doing that. It's so much more comfortable here, with this lovely Ministry Library that seems to have no end. I've been working here for more than a year and still, I haven't managed to read not even the one hundredth of the books. Ron came in here once and said this must be my private heaven. As if he thought of it better, he quickly added that of course, it would be my _second_ private heaven, next to his arms. I guess I'm calling out his name too much when we make love and that has made him over-confident. Oh well… he's right after all.

Speaking of Ron, I'll have to meet him outside the Leaky Cauldron in exactly three hours. We agreed to meet there along with Harry and Ginny, for our Muggle day out; every Monday, we go out in Muggle London, usually to a pub, or a club when we feel like dancing. Harry and I had a great time at first, laughing at Ron and Ginny and their ignorance of most things Muggle; the things we heard from them were more than hilarious. Sadly, they got better with time and rarely make any mistakes anymore. There goes some good old-fashioned fun, what a shame…

Plans for today include a nice and quiet place, where we can just listen to some good music and have some beers. I'm overly glad about this, because it spoils my mood when I have to shout in everyone's ear in order to be heard. It's not that I don't enjoy other places… let's just say this is my favourite kind of fun.

I open the door and find Harry comfortably sitting on the couch, watching some TV quiz. "Hello Harry," I say, smiling at him. He looks tired, but also happy about something. I'll have to remember to ask him later; I'm in a too grumpy mood right now and I just need a hug.

He turns his head. "Oh hi there, roommate. How was work? Found the spell yet?"

I groan and sink myself in the couch, next to Harry. "I really thought today was going to be the day… apparently not. I can't believe it's been a week and I'm still on nothing. Natasha hasn't found anything interesting either, and she has been searching even in Muggle hospitals! I'm so tired of this case," I say, letting out a deep sigh.

Harry takes my head and places it on his lap, then puts his right hand around my neck. Well, there's the long-wanted sort of hug; it never ceases to amaze me how Harry always understands I need a shoulder to cry on. That's a best friend for me, I'm one of the luckiest people on earth. "Come on Hermione, you know you'll triumph in the end," he says reassuringly, "you always do."

"Thanks for comforting me, Harry, you're a dear." I begin watching the quiz staying there in Harry's lap, such a nice and cosy place to be. I bet if I relax, I might even close my eyes and… oh no… "_Harry_!" I abruptly stand up. "What time is it? We're going to be _late_, get up." I push him out of the couch, "Get up, get up, you lazy! We have to get ready!"

"Hermione! You nearly threw me to the floor," he says accusingly, his eyes open wide. "All right, all _right_, I'm going to get ready," he grumbles and quickly walks to his room, nearly slipping on his pijamas on the way. Always a pleasure to see my threatening glares work on Harry. Maybe one day they'll work on Ron as well…

Now… what should I wear? It has to be good enough for Ron to drool; it'll be my revenge for last night, when he left away from me and didn't have the decency to wake me up and kiss me goodbye. After the passionate night we shared…. Oh, he'll _pay_…

I can't say I'm surprised to see Ginny as cheerful as ever. It's as if nothing happened a couple of days ago, as if it was only a nightmare. I look at her smiling brightly to Harry, and find it very hard to believe that this is the same girl that cried over him. But she has done it so many times before, that I'm just convinced her acting skills are beyond ordinary.

Ron is trying to tell me something, but I shamefully admit to myself that I'm not listening to a thing he says. I can only hear what Ginny says to Harry, who is currently having his third lager-beer and still looks overjoyed about something. I wonder what that might be…

She pats him in the back playfully and says, "You lucky! Amy has agreed to go out with you already!"

Ha! That's why Harry looks so content… How does Ginny get him to confess all the time? I'm sure if I had asked him in the afternoon, he would have just said, "Oh, it's a nice day, is all…" I dare say he'd whistle and get even more on my nerves.

He now smiles bashfully. "Well, she said she'd be glad to. I just hope she doesn't only want to meet the _famous_ Harry Potter --like some other girls I've dated," he says bitterly. "What about you, Ginny? Who is it going to be this week?" His eyes twinkle teasingly.

"Hey!" she says as if insulted, "I'm not _that_ bad! I can hold them longer than a week, you prat!"

"All right, whatever you say," he says, smirking.

Poor Harry, if you only knew…

"Hermione. _Hermione_! Are you listening?" Ron says, finally realising I'm not paying any attention to him.

"Um—what?" I wake up from my reverie, "Sorry, Ron, I got sidetracked."

When Ron feels the need to speak about Quidditch, there's nothing stopping him.

"Okay, so when Puddlemere won the Cup—"

CRASH.

It was the loud sound of a glass breaking. Harry accidentally dropped one glass out of the table, after enthusiastically gesturing something to Ginny. _Damn_ Ron for not letting me hear the rest of the conversation….

"I think you shouldn't have another beer, Harry," says Ron, clearly annoyed for being interrupted. "Now, what was I saying? Oh, about Puddlemere and the cup. So…"

Nothing stops him. I'm serious.

Ginny and Harry have tears of laughter on their faces, the poor waitress is cleaning out the mess, I have both of my hands under my chin and Ron continues talking as if nothing happened!

Is this one of the things I'm supposed to love about him, or not? I don't know. I couldn't care less about what he's saying, but I like seeing him talk so excitedly. I'm sure I say that now because I'm head over heals in love with him… I also know that if I think about this the same way I do now in my sixties, well… I guess I'll be a very happy woman.

Work has become unbearable these days; Natasha is rarely to be found in her office and I'm feeling terribly lonely. I have searched and searched to find an answer for so many days that I feel absolutely drained.

I have discovered a significant difference here at work; reading books because you yearn to learn has nothing to do with reading books because it is your job. I may stumble upon interesting things in the books that I open every day to find that damned spell – oh my, what would Ron say if he heard me say that – but I'm not allowed to give a second look at them because there is no time! If I don't find answers, I just have to close the book, put it back on its shelf and grab another one. It's a very tiring procedure, this one.

To top it all, Ron and I had a huge fight yesterday. The funny thing is, I can't remember exactly how it started, although I recall all the bitter details of how it ended…

"When HERMIONE is tired from work, RON has to understand! When Ron is EXHAUSTED from training, he still has to put up with Hermione's nagging." Ron was pacing up and down like a lunatic.

"I don't NAG! And stop talking about yourself in the third person!" I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't—

Ron was furious and red all over. "Is THAT what you think all the time? You listen to people and think of how many mistakes they make when talking? Thanks royally, Hermione! So great to see you can't escape yourself one single minute. I hope you and your brains will have a lovely time without me!"

Wait a minute… I didn't say he made a mistake, I just pointed out something. But maybe the fact that I sometimes correct him even when we fight has something to do with that…

He left my room slamming the door, then stumbled into Harry – who was almost knocked down – took a few seconds to breathe deaply and finally, Apparated.

Harry looked at me with a terrified expression. "How long this time?" he mumbled after a while, as if he dreaded the answer.

Well, let's just see… Ron had reached the highest point of redness, he had yelled, he had paced up and down, he hadn't known what to do with his hands, he had slammed the door and almost knocked Harry down. "Er… that'll be definitely three to four days at least," I said. "Maybe even a week."

Harry almost chocked. "A week? Are you sure?"

I nodded. "The signs, Harry…"

Harry groaned and then went and locked himself in his room. Just perfect.

I have to make up with Harry; I can't stand it when he uses the silent treatment on me. I prefer it when he yells at me and accuses me of ruining both his mood and his time with Ron – which he does quite often after Ron and I had a fight. In fact, I'll go and be yelled at mercilessly right now; that way, there's a good chance I won't spend this evening alone and miserable.

Harry doesn't seem very angry this time; I'd say he actually looks desperate. "You just had to comment on his way of talking again! You should have seen him today, he snapped at everyone alive! It was hell, I'm telling you! Hermione, please, please make up with him as soon as possible. I can't stand him when he gets like that and I'm pretty sure no one does." He crosses his hands and looks at me with this green pleading gaze of his. How can I resist?

"Oh, all right, Harry, I'll try to do something. But it'll have to be tomorrow, as I don't think today would be a good time for reconciliation… He must still be fuming— and you know what? He's right to be angry this time. What possessed me to say that last one thing is beyond me, it was absolutely not necessary… Sometimes I say the most inappropriate things, honestly…"

Harry's eyes light up. "Wonderful! I can't believe how easy it was to convince you this time," he says, somehow relieved, "I must be getting better at this…"

Smugness is not something that goes well with Harry's face, but I think it'd be inappropriate to mention this right now. (Practice makes perfect and I have to learn to keep my mouth shut.)

"Don't flatter yourself that much, Harry. It's just that I feel tired these days and I can't be fighting with Ron as well. I – I need him too much," I say truthfully, but also in the verge of tears. I do miss Ron terribly, and I've just realised how much.

Harry takes my hand in his. "Come on, I heard there's a great movie on TV tonight, it'll take your mind off Ron."

I fight the tears that threaten to spill; Harry doesn't need a crying, over-emotional roommate. "All right, let's watch," I say, following him.

But it's no use, I can't pay attention. Not until something interesting catches my eye.

Harry is looking at the red-haired star – who is currently passionately kissing her lover – in a way I've never seen him look at anyone before. I exchange looks between the pretty girl on TV and Harry, trying to understand what's going on.

Silly me! The girl reminds him of Ginny, this must be it!

But why is he looking like that? Could he actually…?

"Harry," I call him, but he doesn't turn his head. "Harry!" I repeat louder, and this time I get a reaction.

"Huh?" His green eyes open wide in astonishment. "Er – what? Um – sorry…"

Too nervous. Why is it I wonder? Was someone having indecent thoughts? It definitely seems like that.

"What were you thinking, Harry?" I feel like being mean.

I can almost see the sweat and I know he probably hates me right now. Harry just can't lie to me, and he hates it when he finds himself in that position.

"Er – I don't remember," he mumbles.

"I thought you said the movie was nice and we should watch it and now you're not paying attention. Why is that?"

"Kind of lost interest, I guess," he says boringly.

Okay, I must act all innocent now.

"Really? But here's the best part, they finally see each other again." I pause for a moment. "You know what? I've been trying to figure out who this girl reminds me of. Can you help me out?"

He runs his fingers through his wild hair. "No, I don't think so, she doesn't remind me of anyone."

"Oh come on," I complain. But then I decide it's time for the big hit. "Of course! I know who she reminds me of! It's Ginny, who else? With the red hair, freckles and big eyes? She even has Ginny's figure. Don't you agree?"

He coughs. Honestly, his hair looks at its worse by now. "Well, I haven't really n-noticed Ginny's figure, but I suppose you could say the girl looks a bit like her."

"Could have fooled me," I whisper.

"What? What did you say?" he asks.

"Oh nothing, I was just talking to myself."

Weird things are happening today. I come here to make up with Harry and think of a way to also make things right with Ron and what do I stumble upon? A most interesting discovery!

Harry looks a bit ill. He abruptly leaves to go to his room and I can see he's flustered all over.

I definitely have some observation to do in the following days…

Hermione

I don't feel like talking to you at the moment. Maybe tomorrow evening I'll come by your place.

Ron

Oh… oh… he's infuriating! What kind of an indifferent owl is that? After the kind one I sent him, where I told him I wanted to see him and apologise… I feel like crying… It's already been three days since that stupid fight, why doesn't he let go? Why oh why… I'm so miserable! Still haven't found an answer to that spell thing, it's getting totally out of hand. I think I can't fully concentrate when all I can think of is how much I miss Ron…

And it's such a disturbing thought! Is it always going to be like that? I don't want my relationship with Ron to affect my job, I just can't afford lack of concentration whenever something like this happens.

And that Harry… where is he when you need him? Where has he gone, I wonder… Probably out with that Ravenclaw girl. Argh… no one to talk to, I'll go beserk!

I know… I'll read 'Hogwarts, a History' once more. It's always a good friend and makes me forget about things.

Unfortunately… sometimes even that can't help…


End file.
